


Cat and Mouse

by ArtHistory



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Plotty, Slow Burn, Therapy, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtHistory/pseuds/ArtHistory
Summary: Dr. Daniel Meadows is a master manipulator who enjoys nothing more than finding the "truest desires" of the people around him and unleashing them.Dr. Michael Homestead is the next in a long line of psychologists to interview him.In this game of cat and mouse, who exactly wins?Certainly not anyone's waistline.A longer, plottier piece inspired by a delightful therapist OC. Hope you all enjoy!
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	Cat and Mouse

Dr. Daniel Meadows sighed. Head resting in his palm, he stared with incredible boredom at the plain, white wall before him. The oaken chair beneath him was sturdy under his tight, toned bottom, the plain, baby blue scrubs restraining his sinewing form from engaging in too much quick movement, the padded shackles around his ankles making his gait slow as he moved back and forth across his cell.

“Meadows” The guard, Cheryl?, likely Cheryl. Daniel could tell from the gentle hissing of the S, possibly from ineffective corrective dentistry, that it was her. He smiled to himself, standing now, facing away from the wall of plexiglass at the other side of his cell.

“Yes, Cheryl?” He gambled.

Daniel’s grin spread wider, cracking his pale face in two as he heard a quick, panicked breath through the various holes punched into the plexiglass wall.

“You have a visitor.” Cheryl said, her teeth gritted, “He’s all yours, Doc.”

“Thank you.” A low, rumbling, masculine voice said, before the sound of one of the facility's ancient, metal chairs squeaking its way open assaulted Daniel’s ears.

“Hello, Dr. Meadows. I’m your new psychologist.” The same voice called out. It flowed up, through Daniel’s cell like warm molasses. Rolling up the back of his neck, swirling around his harsh, angular face before trailing down his arms, gliding through and holding the space between his fingers.

Oh, this one was going to be fun.

“Finally, I was wondering when they were going to send another one of you.” Daniel purred, turning, his hands clasping casually behind his back.

He paused, making a show of looking the man up, then down.

Brown, expensive leather shoes, but clearly not new. A man who appreciated finer things, and appreciated using them even more. Brown slacks over thick, muscular calves and thighs, arse not visible, but hips of a decent enough size to infer an ass that was at least as meaty as the rest of him. A tight, toned waist over a muscular chest. Gym muscle. A man who regularly exercised. A soft, caramel cardigan beneath a tweed, suit jacket. Black tie, white button-up beneath it all. A professor or currently practicing therapist, not some purely-clinical lab dweller like the last one. And finally-

Oh.

A handsome, bearded face. Dark blonde beard and mustache combo shaved down with precision. A large, Grecco-Roman nose framed by high, pronounced cheekbones with inviting, bright green eyes. His hair was a designed shade of messy, its sides shorn with its top styled to fall gracefully.

Daniel allowed his head to cock to one side.

Waiting.

The man smiled.

“Dr. Meadows, I’m Dr. Homestead, may I sit down?” The man asked, gesturing a large hand towards the chair he’d placed quite close to the plexiglass wall of the cell.

Daniel nodded, taking the oak chair from his small desk and bringing it to the very edge of the cell.

Dr. Homestead, in kind, moved the metal folding chair directly in front of the slat that guards opened to slide Daniel his daily meals.

Daniel sat, raising an eyebrow as Dr. Homestead opened the slat.

“Are you not concerned I’ll glide my hand through there, wrap your tie in my fist, and bash your head against the glass until the guards stop me?” Daniel said, daring to bring a pale hand up and let his fingers rest in the opening between them.

Dr. Homestead’s face stayed as calm and serene as when he entered.

“You’ve never exhibited violent behavior with your former psychologists, why would that change now?”

“Maybe I react differently to everyone. I’m rather unpredictable, you know.” Daniel said, retracting his hand to pose it under his chin.

Dr. Homestead sighed.

“Dr. Zhang’s records indicated-.”

“Ah yes! How  **is** Li Wei?” Daniel interrupted, his tone cheery, smiling as he saw annoyance pass over Dr. Homestead’s face.

“Dr. Meadows, I am aware you get the The Boston Glove delivered daily to your cell. You know as well as I do that Dr. Zhang fled to Montenegro with his yoga instructor.” 

“Ah, yes. I believe he funneled the money needed to start over out of the departmental funds? He was so in-love, Dr. Homestead. You must understand. Men with do anything once they-”

“That’s enough.” Dr. Homestead said, his rich, husk voice firm. Agitated.

Daniel looked taken aback, “Why Dr. Homestead! You seem so upset. And specifically upset with  **me** ?! Whatever could I, a man trapped in a white room, ever have to do with-”

“He was your fourth psychologist, Dr. Meadows.” Dr. Homestead said, leaning a muscular arm onto his beefy thigh, his face moving forward close enough for the heat of his breath to fog the glass.

“That’s  **four** of my colleagues from Harvard Medical  **removed** from their station. Away from their students, patients, and research. Brilliant minds vanished when the world needs them. And  **none** of their notes indicate why. But I know it has to do with  **you** .” Homestead said, pointing a finger through the slat, its tip appearing on Daniel’s side of the cell.

“So I’m going to figure out what you’ve done. How you’ve done it. I don’t care how large your cult used to be. I don’t care how many people gave you their life savings just to hear you speak years ago. You’re in here now. And you’re  **still** doing damage, even if it’s on a smaller scale. Once I crack you open, I can stop this from happening to anyone else. Ever.” Dr. Homestead said, voice raised color rising to his cheeks before he leaned back, steadying himself.

“Dr. Homestead,” Daniel cooed, smiling like a cat looking at an ocean of cream, “You do realize that was the plan of the men that came before you, don’t you?” He said, interest piqued.

“Yes. And they tried to hide it from you. So interested in a dodging and weaving that they ended up tying themselves up in your web. I’m not doing to do that. I’m just going to smash through it. Honesty, Dr. Meadows. We’re going to be honest with each other. I’m not playing games. I’m just here to talk, and to learn, and in exchange you’ll get whatever perks you might want, how does that sound?”

Daniel’s mouth hung open a moment. 

Alright. This was too good. Too different. Too  **fun** .

“That sounds, frankly, quite refreshing, Dr. Homestead.”

“Thank you, Dr. Meadows. I think we can-”

“Daniel.”

“Excuse me?”

“Daniel. Call me Daniel. If we’re being honest, if we’re not playing games, let’s do away with all these pointless titles. Just be two men, talking. What do you say…’ Daniel said, extending his hand out, waiting for-

“Michael.” Dr. Homestead offered.

“Michael.” Daniel repeated, “I think we’re going to really do some amazing work together.”

Michael extended his hand through the slat, the guard nearby hurrying over, before Michael raised his other hands towards them.

Daniel blinked.

He looked between that hand and the bearded man’s face.

“Let’s not lie to each other. Let’s help each other out.” Michael said.

Daniel took that big, warm hand in his own icy, petite one, his smile nearly splitting his face in two.

Oh. This was going to be  _ fun _ .

  
  
  
  


This was, notably, not fun.

Michale had been honest about his desire for honesty. The man was an open book. Perhaps, indeed, the most boring book ever fucking created.

Dr. Michael Homestead, psychologist, had a perfectly healthy relationship with his parents and half-brother. He was bisexual, on the dating scene, but not in any way lonely. He was perfectly satisfied in his career, owned a well-to-do home in a suburb outside Boston that he was paying off at a normal rate. For fun, he read detective novels and played golf.

Golf.

_ Golf _ for fuck’s sake.

He liked whiskey and the occasional cigar, but did both with such moderation that he was certainly not starved for them. He exercised 5 days a week, for enough time to be considered health-conscious as opposed to a gym rat.

Daniel scowled.

He sat, hunched, on his bed in his white room.

This man was not fun.

Everyone had  _ something _ they kept buried in themselves.

Dr. Zhang was madly in love with his yoga instructor, and furious about being passed over for a director position. Dr. Powers was practically  _ begging  _ someone to give him permission to kill his wife’s tennis instructor, with whom he was convinced she was having an affair. And his very first psychiatrist, Dr. Gonzalez, he just wanted to retire and spend more time with his husband…’s sister. 

Daniel let himself lay back in his bed, smiling a bit as he remembered each of these men, the yarn balls of their minds slowly picked apart until he found their core. Something they so, desperately wanted to do but...didn’t. Because society said it was wrong. Because they were frightened. Because it was just a  _ little bit _ illegal. He relished in it. Making tightly controlled, successful men unhinged - no. making them  **free** . That’s all he wanted for Michael.

But this boring bastard seemed to be completely happy.

Where was his dark underbelly?

Daniel frowned as Cheryl once again called out he had a visitor.

It’d be nearly four months since this whole charade had started, and Daniel was...worried. Michael had gotten him to open up about his childhood, and they were rapidly approaching his teenage years. And all the information Michael had shared with him was...useless. Well not  **useless** . 

Michael was a bit of a romantic. He liked dogs. He like Poirot. He seemed to just be an overall...nice person.

“Hello, Daniel. You ready to talk?”

Was this how he was defeated?

A brilliant. Cult leader. Master manipulator. Done in by the most boring...normal...green-eyed...sweet...handsome beefcake this side of New England?

Daniel sighed, leaning into his palm, watching the bounce of Michael’s bicep as he scribbled, then blinking, looking up as Michael repeated his question.

“I was asking about your first job. You said you started working at 14?” Michael said, his rich, deep voice melting into Daniel’s cell.

Daniel blinked again.

“Oh, yes. We can skip this part, I actually have a lot of...probably normal, happy memories of my time at the cafe.”

Michael chuckled, his large nose letting out a snort that Daniel found so infuriating fly charming.

“Well, maybe today will be a little more relaxed, then. Let’s talk about what you enjoyed so much about this job.”

And Daniel talked. Michael was good at that, getting him to talk.

“I...well what wasn’t there to like? I made things, people bought those things, then I got to make more things. It was simple.”

“Hmm, interesting.” Michael murmured, making a few notes.

Daniel’s eyes narrowed.

“No it’s not. Why is it interesting?”

Michael smirked again. Daniel was getting sick of that. This handsome bastard, thinking him so...defanged.

“It’s...sweet to think about. A future, criminal psychopath, baking cookies.”

Daniel felt his cheeks go red, losing control of his icy demeanor.

“It’s not ‘sweet’. I’m a scientist. Baking is a science. If anything, me being amazing at crafting recipes is the very start of my criminal career! My mastery of baking was the beginnings of my mastery of the human mind - go on. Write that down.” Daniel said, deeply offended to be looked upon by this man like he was...some sort of kitten. Michael was trying to get a rise out of him - 

And it was working.

“Oh yes? Baking help you with the Arkansas Incident? That riot you started in the Post Office cause no less than seven buildings to burn down. Let’s talk about that.” Michael said, inwardly smirking as he felt the conversation being pulled in his favor. Finally, he’d be able to get into this monsters brain. He was angry, off his guard, no he’d-“

“Give me a damn piece of paper.” Daniel growler. His fists were balled at his sides, normally still, ivory face a deep shade of angry crimson.

Michael could only grin.

This was it! His first break in this creature armor.

He slid a paper and pencil through the open slat in the plexiglass between them. He could already imagine the cover of his next book, perhaps him in his office, holding a one, or whatever novel prize he’d get from cracking-

“Four cups of flour...two eggs…” Michael blinked at the page, then looked up to a rather pleased looking Daniel.

“Go on. Use that recipe. Then come back and tell me I’m not a goddamn genius, even at 14 I knew how to drive people wild!” Daniel said, leaning back in his chair, looking all too pleased with himself.

“We’re done here for today, Michael. Consider this round won.” Daniel said, clearly taking a mental victory lap.

“No this...I…”

Daniel raised and eyebrow.

“What?”

Michael huffed. Jamming the recipe into his pocket.

“Good day then, Dr. Meadows, I will speak with you tomorrow.” Michael said, rising and starting to leave.

“Dr. Meadows? What, are we fighting now?” Daniel said, before huffing, looking away from Michael’s muscular ass as he walked away.

The next day Daniel was standing in the middle of his cell when Michael arrived, a knowing smile on his face, as if ready to say ‘I told you so’

“Well? Go on. Tell me how good they were.”

Michael sighed.

“They were delicious.’  
Daniel stilled. Nothing to really go off. Michael looked calm, normal as ever. But it felt...odd.

“You’re lying.”

Michael’s eyes widened.

Daniel’s shock didn’t read on his face. But the gears in his head slowly began to turn.

“I thought we were being totally honest with each other. And you lie about  _ this _ ? About  _ cookies _ ?” Daniel said, moving closer to the glass, staring the slightly taller man down.

“I...how did you know?”

Daniel smirked.

“Very simple. You’re a heavy coffee drinker. Caffeine and sugar? You’d have entered with more energy.” Daniel lied, always eager to inflate the idea that he was some mental wizard, when in fact a lot of his manipulation strategies were simply...gambling. Guessing how people would react. 

“Yes I...I didn’t try them, I don’t usually eat sugar.”

Daniel froze in his spot, turning away from Michael, only so he could absolutely  _ beam _ .

Finally. Fucking finally, Michael was proving to be interesting.

The pieces were falling together. A notable effort to exercise. Hobbies including reading and low-impact sports. Indulgence in alcohol and the odd smoke, with no mention of food.

“Dr. Homestead,” Daniel mused, slowly turning, watching the psychologist react to his name being spoken with such dripping venom, feeling very much a fat flu trapped in a black widow’s web,

“Were you  _ obese _ as a child?”

Michael flushed crimson.

Got ‘im.

“I...obese is  _ hardly _ the- I had weight struggles when I was younger but-”

“Is your family obese? Your mother, most likely. She and your half-brother I assume. No wonder you were so happy to chat about your lovely family. I imagine the holidays, your only real time with them, are the only time your allow your inner fat-boy to  _ indulge _ -”

“That is enough.” Michael said, slamming a large fist on the plexiglass before him.

Daniel grinned wider. His heart pounded in his ears. This was it. The hunt. The chase. Oh, he was practically  _ drooling _ .

“You’re right, my apologies, Michael.” Daniel said, slowly, slowly easing over to the plexiglass, settling himself into his chair.

Michael paused, looking deeply suspicious.

“I’d like to continue, let’s talk.”

Michael looked thoroughly unamused, but obliged.

“No, where was I? Yes, the cafe…”

Two hours later Michael had a page littered with notes. Stories about Daniel’s mother visiting him at the restaurant. Tales of Daniel twisting his boss in circles as he altered recipes and convinced the man he’d changed them himself. Even a brief,  **brief** mention of Daniel’s supposed mentor visiting the cafe, never ordering a thing, but lingering as he heard Daniel convince a customer to double his order.

“This is...this is great stuff.” Michael said, a bit amazed.

“What caused you to open up so much?” He asked, suddenly suspicious as Daniel made an effort to look as innocent as possible.

“May I have another piece of paper?” Daniel asked, sweetly. 

Michael stared at the smaller man’s face, trying his best to find malice, turning gears... 

And then, after a moment, he obliged.

Daniel wrote for a moment, then slid the paper and pencil back through the slat.

Michael snatched it up with haste, looking it over, reading it aloud.

“Crushed dates, walnuts…what is this?”

“A healthier recipe. My apologies, if I’d known you had concerns regarding sugar, I wouldn’t have made the offer. You’ve been so straightforward with me during our time, this is the least I can do.” Daniel said, his tone calm, even, eyes blinking slowly.

Michael folded the recipe, tucking it into his pocket.

“You don’t have to try it, of course. But I wanted to make sure you had something you  **could** try, if you wanted to.” He added, rising as Michael did, letting his eyes fall closed as he smiled.

“I...thank you, Daniel.”

“My pleasure, Michael. Have an excellent weekend.”

Michael straightened.

Oh, yes. It was a Friday, wasn’t it?

Michael only looked back once as Cheryl escorted him off the facilities grounds. He almost chuckled as he saw Daniel watching him, hands behind his back, breaking the gesture only to give the tiniest of waves before the electronic doors closed behind him.

Several hours later, Michael wiped a bare forearm to his forehead. 

A smudge of flour kissing his well-defined cheek. His sink was a tower of bowls, spoons, and baking sheets, but it certainly appeared to be worth it, giving the dozen or so perfectly baked cookies before him. Had he known the process would be so laborious, he wouldn’t have planned to set to work in between a brief FaceTime from his mother and the gym. Her apple cheeks had filled up the entire screen, delighted and shocked in equal measure by his out of the blue call. Daniel was right, he mostly forgot about his family outside of the holidays. It was nice to check in. If that had meant a skipped gym session, not too big a deal.

Michael reached to grab his whiskey on the rocks, giving it a swirl before taking a slow sip. The scent of the strong alcohol, combined with the rich smell of the nutty cookies, made his entire home feel like autumn. It was snug. Peaceful.

Before he fully realized it, Michael was snatching up a freshly baked cookie and popping the entire thing in his mouth.

His eyes went wide.

It was sweet, but not too sweet. A richness from nuts and a natural sweetness from the dates made Michael feel no guilt about grabbing a second cookie as he topped off his drink. And of course, a second was followed by a third, a fourth.

And in no time at all the muscular blonde was muffling a sweet belch into his fist, head spinning with drink, stomach wide, full.

Michael groaned as he laid his hands to it, their size and warmth doing wonders for the dull throb of his gurgling stomach. Slow, gentle rubs turned the ache there to a deeply satisfying pressure, a stretch and bloat that only left him feeling content, stuffed, belly too full for any stressful thoughts to reach him.

He may just have to thank Daniel come Monday, Michael smiled, letting his eyes fall closed as he sat by the fire, only just allowing himself to pretend the hands massaging his gut weren’t his own…

As his mind drifted, imagining that dark-haired, pale face looking up at him from below his distinctly overfed middle was enough to have him jumping up and off for a cold shower, diving into bed without a second thought.

And some miles away, alone in his dark cell, Daniel lay in his own bed. He smiled to himself, wondering, no,  _ knowing  _ just how well his plan was working.


End file.
